Five more days of snorkeling, hiking and retreating at our retreat on the island of Koh Rong Sanloem, off the coast of Cambodia. Despite some rather uncooperative weather and surf, we make the best of it.

We do our snorkeling at the beach in front of our house, as the water at the prime snorkeling location has proven to be too turbulent every time we’ve checked it out, except for the very first day. And even in front of our house, the currents on one day are so strong that we find it a real struggle to make it back to shore, and begin to think that we’re going to have to be hauled out by one of the boats anchored in the bay; but we finally conquer the surf, getting a good workout in the process. Sometimes the water is too murky to see much, but when it’s clear enough, our efforts are well rewarded.

One critter we catch sight of is jellyfish — a very small variety, about the size of a cookie, and as transparent as cellophane, so it’s hard to see them until they’re right up inside your aura. When you do see them, they look like flattened bubbles. They cause Kimberly a bit of concern, as she has memories of being stung by jellyfish as a child on Oahu. But our research tells us that this particular species is more jelly than fish, and nothing to be alarmed about. Dennis has the opportunity to verify this through field research, collecting a sting from one of them that turns out to be no worse than half a mosquito bite.

Another critter of the ocean doesn’t wait for us to come and visit it, but comes right up to visit us, and goes to great lengths to do so: a hermit crab hikes the distance of 100 yards or so across the beach, right up onto our porch, through the front door, across the floor of the common area, and finally coming to rest among a clutter of gear and supplies under the bar. After such an Olympian trek, we almost feel bad about pulling him out and deporting him back to his own domain, but in this case it’s for his own good.

In the process of poking around under the bar to get the crab out, we uncover something quite interesting: a pocket watch commemorating the classic 1943 book for kids and kids at heart The Little Prince, by Antoine de Saint-Exupéry. It’s all crusted over with a thick patina making it look like an antique treasure recovered from a pirate ship — in fact, it’s probably just a few years old.

It reminds us of another retro pocket watch that we once owned, commemorating the 500th anniversary of the voyages of Columbus. Not that we were fans of Columbus (in fact we were decidedly un-fans) but it just looked like a fascinating curio to have back when we were into collecting things. (Okay, one of us was.) And we used it as a prop in one of our shows, appropriately an ocean-themed story. Then one day, as we were preparing to do a performance at a library in Los Angeles, it was stolen, along with a suitcase full of other props. It had been strapped to the trunk of our car that we were driving because we were between motorhomes. We left it unattended for 5 minutes, and came back to find the suitcase gone. The thief got a cool kitschy watch designed to look like a classy watch, but nothing of real value. We would love to have seen his face when he opened up his booty and discovered another prop, a wooden toilet seat.

Anyway, the Little Prince watch is a serendipitous find, because it happens that just a few days earlier, Dennis had recommended the book to one of his students (actually to the mother of one of his students to give to him), the student who he thinks is, out of all the students he’s taught, the one most like he was at that age. And it’s quite likely that he will also love The Little Prince, a fanciful parable about the importance of imagination and authenticity, which are qualities that have served us well — and still do.

Currently, we are living a life that entails divesting ourselves of more possessions rather than acquiring more. Otherwise it might be tempting to contact the host and ask about buying this watch. (Sure you can buy a new one online for 5 dollars or so; but buying an old one that has accumulated such a delightfully weathered, wizened and wisened appearance is another matter.) But as it is, we just put it back where we found it, so it can fill someone else with wonder and wistfulness in the future. But Dennis reserves the right to mention it in a poem.

Another creature we encounter in our home is not so welcome, and is not from the sea, but from the land: a rat. First, we find it rattling around in our garbage can. Then it (or its evil twin) appears in our bedroom, on the shelf where we stash some food items. And it’s not just window shopping. On the shelf are about a dozen little packets of malt powder, which is hard to find, and which Dennis enjoys putting in coffee and other things. And this loathsome rodent has ripped them all open. Every. Single. One. We chase him away, stash our grub elsewhere, and fortunately don’t see him again.

Other than that, we have no real complaints about our digs. Well except for the leaky roof. But we were warned about it. It’s not really a problem, except for one night when the thunderstorm is particularly devilish, and after a while, the water starts dripping onto our bed. But we manage to reposition ourselves so we won’t get drenched in our sleep, and put some things under the drips to catch the water — we even stretch out our raincoats on the mosquito netting over the bed — and life goes on.

Oh yes, and it also would have been nice if the place had wi-fi, but we’re not at all surprised that it doesn’t. Still, we have our own SIM cards and wi-fi hotspot. So we’re able to get our online work done. And what an office space we have to do it, with a view of the ocean, the boats and the beach.

But there is quite a bit more to the island, small as it is, than what we are seeing in our “neighborhood”. So we have a curiosity about exploring more of it. One day we try what is called the Jungle Trail — there are rumors that as one gets up into the hills, one can encounter monkeys — but the only path we found just peters out into the brush, and we can’t get very far.

So then we ponder taking a boat around to another side of the island — we’ve read online that such boats can be hired, at least in season. But we have a very hard time finding out any information about them. Finally we ask at a little restaurant down the way, a place called Bong that is operated by an Australian couple who have resided on the island for quite some time. The woman tells us that yes, you can hire a boat to take you to Saracen Bay which is on the other side, for 10 dollars. It leaves at 10 a.m. and returns at 5 p.m. And the man who owns the boat lives nearby. But when we ask further, we learn that despite its alluring name, there is really nothing to see at Saracen Bay except a resort. So it’s hardly worth spending 10 dollars for, much less spending an entire day.

We also ask her if there is some kind of evening tour to view the bioluminescent plankton rumored to be found in the bay. She replies that you don’t need a tour. You just hike down the beach a ways in the evening and wade into the water a few feet, and you’ll see them. So that evening at 7:00 we do just that. And we do indeed see them, hundreds of little aquatic Tinker Bells darting all around our legs; but we can’t prove it, because they’re so sparse and fleeting that they’re practically impossible to photograph.

The Australian restaurant is one of two places where we eat dinner out during our stay. Both have some tasty vegetarian options available. Bong has the better view, but the other place has the better prices. The food is about of equal quality between the two.

There are lots of children running around on the island, and there’s even a school; one day some of the students come out to the beach in their uniforms on a crusade to pick up litter.

Another day, Dennis takes the badminton set he found in the lobby out in front of our place and begins playing by himself. But it isn’t long before he has some company: a couple of boys who want to get in on the action. And then quite a few other kids who want to take turns and/ or watch the match in progress. For all of them — even the adult — it’s a learning process.

Do the kids on this island know how lucky they are to live in a setting like this, where they can play on the beach every day of their lives and meet travelers from all over the world.? Or do they find it routine and boring, and yearn to hop on a boat and escape to the big city of Sihanoukville? No doubt the sand is browner on the other side of the bay; and certainly they’ve seen plenty of glimpses online of what life on the mainland is like even if they’ve never been there once.

Still, it’s hard to imagine that they don’t love being where they are. And from all appearances, they do indeed. They seem to be living a life that would make The Little Prince feel at home if he dropped in.

08/25-28/2024